


With metal on our tongues (and silver in our lungs)

by melancholicmermaid



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Human! Caroline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholicmermaid/pseuds/melancholicmermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when the originals move to an island where the weather changes faster than you can say hello and the locals read way too much das kapital, the last thing they are expecting is the daughter of their neighborhood vampire hunter fancying herself a nancy drew.<br/>(the setting isn’t clearly defined in my head. think late 60s. or maybe early 80s. either way expect anachronism.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Do you want some?”

He looks at the candy apple she extends towards him, a neat bite already shining through the side that faces him. Well, he didn’t remember the story going this way.

He looks back up at the girl, and can’t resist a hungry smile. She is so fresh, all pink stained cheeks and golden curls. Some of the apple’s sugar coating still sticks on her lower lip and he wonders what it would taste like if he just bends down and kisses it off her.

That visual gives birth to a more enticing one in his mind.

What would she taste like?

He could take a bite and call her breakfast. Her neck is pale and swan-like and it would take him less than a microsecond to twist it in an unnatural but aesthetically pleasing angle and suck her blood. If she tasted as sweet as she looked, he wouldn’t bother stopping till her heart quit its incessant mocking pumping and her knees gave way.

But eating your student on the first day of teaching is probably not considered appropriate behaviour.

She finally takes his silence to mean rejection of the apple’s saccharine temptation and continues past his desk. He is leaning against it having just arrived and still contemplating his next move. His eyes follow her as she makes her way towards the wide window. She lights a candle and sticks it inside a blue glass bottle and then looks around pleased, as if she hasn’t just changed the dull morning darkness to a nightmarish stygian gloom.

He doesn’t mention anything though because he knows she means well. Somewhere at about three this morning, the island’s electricity disappeared.

“Does this happen often?”

“What?” she says now taking a seat right in front of his desk, legs politely crossed at the ankle. She is dressed in the strangest assortment of clothes and looks as if she is on her way to a polar expedition.

“The absence of electricity.”

“Oh yeah, it’s almost a weekly occurrence. You’ll get used to it,” she says in what he can tell is supposed to be a comforting tone.

He shuts his eyes and falls into his chair wearily. He is so angry he could kill Kol. Every few decades his siblings and he relocated somewhere, and by some gamble of fate, this time the decision making rested with the stupidest of them. Though he also wouldn’t put it past Kol to have known exactly what a menace this would be and precisely select it for that reason. He had always had a very odd sense of humor.

If it were up to him they would be at the Sorbonne right now but instead here they are in a nameless off the map island which reeks of patchouli and sea salt. Elijah is taking care of assimilating with the locals while Rebekah and Kol slept in. So much for their wish to continue attending university.

And here he is, stuck in this empty classroom with its faint smell of mildew. Empty, save for the strange girl who sits in front of him chewing thoughtfully at her candy apple.

“Where are the other students?”

“Oh no one gets here on time,” she says sadly, “they’ll probably start walking in after an hour or so.”

He doesn’t ask the obvious question. Maybe there isn’t an answer. Maybe she is just a strange girl who likes sitting in empty damp classrooms with her professor.

“Professor Shane was helping me read Derrida,” she explains after a while. “Do you know why he quit so suddenly? Did he take a sabbatical?”

Klaus clears his throat uncomfortably. “He is dead.”

He expects the girl to get up screaming but she sits there impassively and blinks. “Oh.”

“Animal attack,” Klaus hurries to explain not wanting her mind to wander. Well, if you considered vampires animals it wasn’t even a lie. 

But that was apparently the wrong move because suddenly her phlegmatic countenance changes to one of suspicion.

“What?” she snaps.

Klaus scoops up the newspaper in front of him and hands it to her. She stares at the front page headline.

_Chair of the English department mauled by the Feral Cats_

“The feral cats are innocent,” she proclaims before hastening to read the article.

“How so?” Klaus asks in annoyance.

“They are only ever feral towards the other cats. They have been framed.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Don’t you think you are being a little dramatic?”

“No, look at this,” she says coming to stand near him and slapping the newspaper down on his table. He tries not to concentrate on the warmth of her blood or her citrusy perfume and instead focuses on the article his family had planted in the local newspaper.

She points a finger to a sentence and reads aloud, “The feral cat, a handsome fellow, engaged the professor in a fist to fist fight before draining his life off.” She stops to let that sink in before pointing at other specimens of similar ridiculousness.

They should have never left this up to Kol. Klaus has half a mind to tear out of the stupid university and dagger Kol again so they could pass a peaceful decade or two.

“Ugh, I am totally going over the gazette’s office right now. Something fishy is at play here.”

“You will do no such thing. These are class hours. I don’t care how Professor Shane taught this class but you will maintain discipline under me.”

Caroline looks up at him surprised but meekly makes her way away from him.

Then she proceeds to peel off the dozen layers of clothing off her body. He doesn’t have to ask her why. Since they have arrived the temperature has risen drastically (did he not mention? another quirk of this island was the almost unearthly speed with which the weather changed) and she doesn’t possess his vampire immunity.  But his eyes still stare at her hungrily as she slips off her beaver coat and her sweaters till all she is dressed in is what looks like a satin nightdress and riding boots.

Klaus notes something more tempting than her blood as she finishes the transformation from overfriendly student to a sylphlike goddess. He doesn’t particularly enjoy sexual encounters with humans but maybe he could make an exception.

She goes back to her seat, picks up that stupid apple she had kept with its stick handle jauntily pressed in a hole on her desk and starts licking it absent-mindedly. And he is still staring at her greedily, earlier altercation long forgotten.

“Can you not do that?” he asks after a while, not able to stand the sight of her without wanting to rip her clothes apart (or her throat). Elijah wouldn’t be pleased if he killed off his first student on his first day.

“What?” she asks, looking startled and dazed as if her mind had been elsewhere (as it had).

Klaus narrows his eyes at her. He can tell she is still thinking of Professor Shane and the vile feral cats. He can practically hear the wheels in her brain whirring.

“Not lick the apple so suggestively,” he says with a cruel smirk. That should distract her from the unfortunate incident.

“I did offer it to you,” she says in confusion. Before he can react, she stands up suddenly, the apple falling on the floor and rolling away. “I feel a migraine coming on. May I be excused from today’s tutorial?”

Without waiting for an answer or even trying to mask her blatant lie, she is gone from the classroom in a swish of satin and silk, though not before discreetly stealing the newspaper which was innocently lying under his nose.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have narrowed the setting down to 1972 in my head (if anyone cares)

It’s evening and the sun is shining with annoying brightness. Klaus wonders how the islanders get a sense of time because the sun clearly wakes long after the rooster’s crow. His siblings have woken with the sun and are now perched around various pieces of the scattered furniture clutching mugs of coffee. What silly human conventions they pick up.

Elijah isn’t looking very well either. He had come back from his field visit haggard and irritated. He sits at the head of the table now and spits out, “granola crunchers, the whole lot of them,” shuddering slightly as if he can’t think of anything worse. He probably can’t.

“Did they not approve of your suit?” Kol asks slyly.

“You managed to find out if there are any other vampires residing here?” Rebecca enquires hastily, trying to prevent any skirmishes from arising.

“A few,” Elijah mumbles, suspiciously terse.

“Any we know, dear brother?” Klaus asks with gritted teeth.

“The Salvatores.”

A shrill wail from the doorbell prevents the room from exploding. Klaus throws his glass of scotch at Kol’s head in anger before making his way to answer the door.

He is greeted by a blonde little creature, face covered by raised hands that wield a rather large pie.

“Hello, I came to welcome you with my famous…rhubarb tart,” she trails away looking perplexed.

He’d rather eat the girl, Klaus thinks hungrily as he recognizes her. “What are you doing here?”

“I live next door,” she says tilting her head to the house right next to theirs.

Klaus tries to pry the tart away from her hands and shut the door on her. Of course, he would end up with the nosiest human as his neighbour. The universe was certainly conspiring against him.

She is still holding on to the tart with inhuman strength and refusing to leave when Elijah appears behind him and warmly invites her in. His brother is way too well-mannered for a monster. And he has no idea what he has just opened the doors to.

She rushes in like an irritatingly bounce-y hurricane and almost trips over a cane stand.

“Careful there,” Kol says eyeing the tart. (Which one though?)

Klaus rolls his eyes and watches her as she straightens up and introduces herself to his family. He notices that she is dressed like a normal person today, though that might be relatively speaking.

“What are you wearing?” his sister drawls, looking at her black dress and olive green sweater both of which are adorned by the faces of rather ugly cats.

He only hopes it has nothing to do with showing solidarity to the damned feral cats.

“Oh, I am declaring solidarity towards the local feral cats who are being wrongfully accused of a crime they didn’t commit.”

When his siblings continue looking stricken and don’t reply, she goes on, “Didn’t Professor Mikaelson inform you of what happened to his predecessor?”

Klaus can feel their accusing glances in his direction but he fails to see how this falls on him.

“He must have forgotten,” Elijah finally manages to blurt.

“Anyway, I saw you move in yesterday. I was wondering what happened to Mr. Sykes?”

“He fell down the stairs, hit his head, bled out and died,” Rebekah says really fast, as if that would make it sound less spurious.

The tart falls from her hands and is only just rescued by Kol diving across the room.

“Whew, almost ruined it there,” he tells her, completely unaware of the tension in the room.

“Mr Sykes is dead?”

“He was about a hundred years old. Don’t beat yourself over it,” Klaus tells her as he sees her chin wobble dangerously. And it’s true. Klaus himself had handled this one. He hadn’t even bothered feeding on him. He had just given him a little push and gravity had taken care of the rest.

“What my brother means is we are sure he lived a long and fulfilling life before passing on. Sorry for your loss, Miss Forbes.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I didn’t really know him. He was a recluse since before I was born. I only met him a couple of times,” she concedes, before adding in a business-like tone, “It’s pretty suspicious though, isn’t it? Two deaths in a row.”

 

* * *

 

After she finally takes leave, quite abruptly which seems to be her style, Klaus relaxes on the nearest ottoman and folds his hand in mock contemplation.

“I suppose we have to kill her now.”

“Absolutely not,” Elijah scowls, “we have spilled enough innocent blood already.”

He sounds as if he is giving them a lecture on dinner etiquette. Klaus has a vague memory of Elijah chiding him for letting his victim’s blood drip on a particularly priceless Turkish carpet.

“We can just compel her and be done with it,” Rebekah says in a bored voice.

“That would have been a good idea and I do wonder why it never occurred to any of you to simply compel the Professor and the previous house owner to leave instead of killing them.”

“Where’d be the fun in that, dear brother?”

“However,” Elijah continues, ignoring Klaus, “Caroline Forbes is off limits. I procured some startling information on her father and it would be best if we could just lie low for a while. Besides, she is a slip of a girl. She can’t be more than twenty. Surely you aren’t threatened by her?”

He doesn’t want to dignify that with an answer so he walks out of the stifling familial atmosphere and into the cold sheets of falling rain. The air is heavy with fog as he lurks around the streets waiting for an unassuming human to walk into his clutches. His patience wears out fairly soon when the path remains deserted and he begins to walk back towards the house before smirking to himself and taking a sharp turn. He follows her scent all the way to a large garden that lies between their houses.

She is kneeling on the damp earth tending to a bevy of hemlock. That can’t be right, it must be Queen Anne’s Lace, he thinks absent-mindedly, his attention more on the girl than the plant. Elijah could whine all he wanted but Klaus was going to feed on her. It would probably not do to daydream about some human twice in a single day but Klaus can’t stop himself from admiring how dewy and soft her skin looks, how her hair, tangled and golden, sits atop her head like a crown. A few wet tendrils stick to her neck and he imagines his hands pushing them away and replacing them with his fangs as he drains her burning vitality.

Deciding that he can’t wait any longer, he easily jumps over the wrought-iron fence separating them and walks behind her. He is just about to attack her when she turns, almost as if she were simply waiting here expecting him.

“Come on inside, Professor,” she says, standing up and smiling at him.

He remains rooted, suspended in inaction with the turn of events.

“You’ll get the sniffles standing out there in the cold rain. Come inside. You did come to visit, didn’t you?” She stands on her patio looking confused that he isn’t following her.

Klaus gives his head a shake (it’s as if his brain has gotten as foggy as the weather), and follows after her. Invited inside her house and he didn’t even have to try.

She continues speaking as they walk inside, and Klaus catches some sentences and finds others flying past him.

“I am sorry if you were expecting to meet my parents. My father lives in the mountains,” she says pointing outside the window at some arbitrary point. “It’s only me here.”

He wonders if he missed her explanation of her mother’s residence, but it’s a little hard to keep up with how fast she is talking and her utter lack of providing any context.  Or maybe it’s his fogged up mind preventing coherent communication.

“Tea?” she asks him a little loudly, and he nods before falling into a chair next to a large circular table.

Several loose papers lie in front of him with an incense holder acting as a paperweight. The incense is almost burned away but it drips ash rhythmically on the papers.

This is how accidents happen, Klaus thinks, safely moving the incense away. Caroline has fallen uncharacteristically silent so he picks the papers up and gives a curious glance to its handwritten contents.

_The Utopian Alternative: A case for Fourierism_

“What’s this?” he asks her giving it a little wave.

She looks over her shoulder and replies, “Oh, I am writing a paper for my PPE class. It’s a proposal arguing for why I think The Island would do well to turn into a phalanstery.”

“If embracing Fourier’s socialist reconstruction didn’t work for Brook Farms what makes you think it would be any different for the island?”

“Well, we are experimenting a lot with our structure and-“

“It’s clearly working so well,” he says sarcastically, pointing to the lack of electricity. He goes back to reading the paper which is quite well-written though useless in its delusional optimism.

“Well- wait, how are you reading in the dark? I couldn’t see a thing last time I tried.”

And there she is again, her arm draped across his back, as she bends peering at the paper he holds tight.

“I have sharp sight.” Well, putting it mildly.

“And mine must be abysmal because I can’t read a word.”

As abysmal as your awareness of personal space, he thinks wearily, as her breath ghosts against his cheek. He does that to his victims, gets in their face till he can smell their fear, but most prey have a sense to stay away from their predators. An evolutionary development she obviously forewent. Her heartbeat so close against him reminds him of the reason he is here in the first place.

“Tea done yet?” he says suddenly, eager to have her move away.

He feels the loss of her warmth as she goes to get the kettle.

She comes back shortly and places a small teacup in front of him. He is, however, at a loss as to the concoction it contains.

“Er, what’s this?”

“Oh, it’s elderflower and rose-hip tea,” she replies with a polite smile, already sipping from her own cup.

Klaus looks down at his own. Well, as a vampire he can’t really be poisoned but it doesn’t mean he wants to gulp down a repulsive broth of flowers and cherries.

“Could you make some Earl Grey?” he asks her, looking up only to discover she is fast asleep.

He sighs, gets up and moves the half-empty cup that rests precariously close to where she is sleeping with her head on her folded arms. “This is how accidents happen,” he says softly.

Well, no fun killing someone when they are sleeping, he thinks as he walks away. 

 

* * *

 

 

Klaus is waking to the university at dawn, scowling at the life he sees buzzing all around. Yesterday’s rain has rendered everything green, a blur of green. And amidst the green, he can see the students strolling around, most walking away from the direction of the school than towards it. Rebekah, however, is faithfully trudging alongside him.

“Forcibly,” she mutters darkly.

Kol had come home at dawn and gone straight to bed and Klaus absolutely refused to once again be the only one spending time with a bunch of high teenagers. “We are family, aren’t we?” he had said with a nasty smile.

So Rebekah isn’t talking to him anymore, which serves him just fine. He could do with some peace and quite this early in the morning. The peace and quite lasts for about five more seconds before they come into view of Caroline and Rebekah runs to join her. Apparently, the company of the daffy blonde is preferable to his own.

“What are you supposed to be, Heidi?” Rebekah asks, shooting a critical eye to Caroline’s milkmaid braid and tartan pinafore. Maybe someone’s sexual fantasy of Heidi, Klaus thinks, taking in the small dress and the endless legs.

“Well, I did always want a little goat called Snowflake.”

Sarcasm must not have been discovered on the island yet. What a rich source of study the island could be for an anthropological linguist.    

Rebekah is still prattling on about clothes. Ever since she spent a year in Paris studying design, his sister likes to think to herself as a gifted fashionista. Well, not gifted enough to get employed anywhere as Klaus reminds her at every opportunity. Though he does wonder why she never compelled herself a position in one of the fashion houses she so covets.       

Caroline appears to be only half-listening to what his sister is saying as she scribbles furiously in a Filofax.

“What are you doing today afternoon?” she asks suddenly, and then without waiting for a reply continues, “Because the Women’s Liberation Society is having a meeting and we are always looking for new members. Your brother, Kol, he agreed to come and I am quite pleased since I always thought a male point of view would only enrich-”

“When did you speak with Kol?” he asks, suddenly appearing behind them.

Caroline gives a little scream before realizing it’s just him.

“Oh it’s only you, Professor.” Well, only the devil with his eye on you, little girl.

“When did you speak with Kol” he repeats, suspicious.

“He came over last night to grab a bite-”

And Klaus is circling around her, checking on her neck for any marks, but it’s same the always, pale and swan-like and porcelain pretty. Untouched, unbitten.

“What are you doing?” she says, standing still.

Rebekah snickers next to him. “Yes, what are you doing?”

“I thought I saw something on your shoulder,” he says lamely.

“Could be the sun, it’s out early today,” she says thoughtfully, making no sense as usual.

“So Kol came over last night to grab a bite?” he prompts, refusing to let that go, even as Rebekah rolls her eyes and walks ahead of them.

“Oh yeah, he wanted some more of the rhubarb tart,” she says and then proceeds to root around in the satchel that swings from her left shoulder. She comes out with a parasol. “Come on,” she beckons Klaus, smiling sweetly, “or the sun will catch you.” Sunlight glimmers through the chantilly lace of the parasol and illuminates her face, warm and golden and alive. He usually risks the sun’s wrath but decides there could be no harm in joining her under the flimsy shade just this once.


End file.
